


give me a mystery (maybe you'll bloom for me)

by Strawberry_Champagne



Category: Graceling Realm Series - Kristin Cashore
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Cunnilingus, F/M, Mid-Canon, Missing Scene, mindreading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 09:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29872539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strawberry_Champagne/pseuds/Strawberry_Champagne
Summary: At the inn before the treacherous path through the mountains to Monsea, Katsa and Po have an opportunity to relax together, learning how Po’s Grace enhances and is affected by their intimacy.
Relationships: Katsa/Po | Greening Grandemalion
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	give me a mystery (maybe you'll bloom for me)

Katsa had been able to wash up some in mountain streams and springs during their journey, but it didn’t compare to fresh soap and warm water sluicing across her back as she poured from the provided pitcher next to the bath. It was a much quicker process with her hair shorn—she’d expected some odd glances at her boyish cut from the inn’s staff, though they seemed unfazed having a pair of Graced royals as patrons and seemed to take this too in stride. It was possible, she thought, that anyone who chose the mountain path into Monsea would be a bit unusual by default.

When she returned to the room, Po was reclining on the bed reading a book that must have been part of a stack on the table provided for guests, his hair damp from his own bath. His eyes flashed up to hers and he smiled softly, as if he hadn’t known she was coming as soon as she’d started up the stair.

“Would you prefer that I always act as if I know where you are at all times?”

Katsa made a face, considering this. At times it was convenient, but others… no, she’d rather he looked up at her when she returned, even if it was no actual surprise. Po nodded and set the book aside.

“How was the bath?”

“…Decadent,” Katsa decided, after a moment of consideration. “It’s likely to be the last we’ll have for a while.”

“Well, we will have to make the most of the opportunity, then.” Po grinned. He had his arms cushioned behind his head, shirtsleeves rolled up nearly to the elbow. At his waist, his shirt rode up just enough to reveal the barest slice of golden skin.

Katsa knew that Po could sense her hunger for him, and for once couldn’t bring herself to be bothered by it. It certainly saved time. And after all, there was a bed. An actual bed, with a mattress and blankets that weren’t grass-stained and stale with travel. She went to him, climbing into the space that he made for her there. Found that spot of bare skin and pressed her fingers to it, slipped them beneath the fabric, felt him gasp and shiver as they built a fire within themselves.

They kissed for a while, unhurried, wrapped up in each other and the still-novel sensation of their lips catching and sliding together, of a soft flick of tongue across the seam and deeper yet, sharing breath, exploring. Po moved from mouthing at Katsa’s neck to scraping his teeth across the soft lobe of her ear, a part she had never considered particularly erotic but that shot desire like lightning to her core. She could feel him smiling against her skin before he did it again, and again.

“Po,” she said, or maybe just thought. It was becoming difficult to tell the difference, particularly when they were together like this. He hummed in acknowledgment but did not pause in his journey of sliding a hand along her neck to her collarbone, resting his thumb in the hollow there, gold rings forging a chilled path where they touched her.

They really should, she thought, take advantage of the privacy. The clean blankets, and their fresh-scrubbed skin. Not needing to speak her desires aloud was useful when Katsa wasn’t certain of the best way to articulate them. She formed a vague image, directed at Po, and it was enough. His eyebrows shot up for just a moment, lips twitching with something that was not quite amusement, something smug and heated in his gold-and-silver eyes.

"I was getting there,” he said. 

And Katsa would have needled him further, called him arrogant or at least _thought_ it at him, but she was busy assisting with the hasty removal of their clothes—shirts peeled up and over their heads, hands warm on skin, thumbing at buttons and loosened laces. Once bare, Po hovered over her, arms braced outside her shoulders. He kissed her once more, moved down a bit to mouth at her breasts, but she pushed at him, impatient.

“All right, message received.” He huffed a laugh that was ticklish on her stomach. Surely he could sense her need with more than his mind at this point. But just then he met her gaze steadily, lowered his head to the junction of her thighs and let his lips brush between them, the lightest touch that sent a throb through her inner parts. Could he sense this of her body, too?

“Yes,” Po murmured, a vibration against sensitive nerve-endings. “Sort of. It’s more of a vague—”

“Please stop talking,” said Katsa, and he did.

Katsa didn’t know how it was for un-Graced lovers. She imagined it might be more difficult to communicate where you most desired to be touched, in the heat of it. As she gasped against Po’s tongue, Katsa sent impressions that directed attention where she needed it most, to an increase in pressure and intensity. It wasn’t long at all until she was nearing that delicious climb up to the precipice, and then she was falling with a shout, shaking apart, undone.

Po stretched out beside her like the cat who’d caught a starling, and Katsa gave him a flat look even as she traced the banded markings around his upper arms lazily.

“What? I can’t be pleased with my handiwork?” He laughed, caught her hand and kissed her fingers.

“You have an advantage.”

“You can’t blame the craftsman for his tools. Only judge the final product.”

Well. She _was_ satisfied, and Po knew it. He was, however, still fully aroused himself, the firmness of his body pressed against her hip. His attentions gave her an idea, which flashed across his glittering eyes as soon as she thought of it.

“You don’t have to,” he started to say. “We still have the seabane—”

But Katsa wanted to. She would also know the shape and taste of him, learn his body in all the ways there were to know it. Po lay flat, one hand behind his head, watching her intently. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as she took him in hand, marveling as she always did at how soft the skin was, in contrast to how stiffly his cock stood engorged. He twitched at her touch—and perhaps at her observations, as well. She wondered if it was strange to have this duality in his mind, to feel but also be felt.

“I’ve never known any different,” Po said, cut off with a groan as Katsa took him into her mouth. Or, at least, as much of him as she could manage. She breathed deeply through her nose, adjusting to the stretch of it, what to do with lips and teeth and tongue. Tried to slide down further, toward where she wrapped her fingers around the base, then pulled off, coughing.

“Great seas, Katsa. You never do anything by halves.”

Po reached for her, but she shook him off to try again. This time she had more success—there was a balance of moving her hand and mouth, a challenge to reach a pace where his thighs tensed beneath her, breath coming quick and harsh. Though she was not the one who could sense his thoughts, Katsa nevertheless knew that he was getting close to his own peak and redoubled her efforts. Po grasped at her shoulder, but she would see this to the end, so he let his hand fall and tighten in the blankets.

Po’s back arched as he lifted his hips with a long groan, and as she swallowed around him Katsa wondered if his mind went as blank in the throes of it as her own did. She thought _PO_ at him impulsively, not quite as loudly as she had shouted at him that first time on the road, but clear and intentional. When it was done, they lay together beneath the soft blankets quietly with their thoughts, calmer and more blissful than Katsa could remember feeling in a very long time.

Had he heard her, she wondered.

“When? …Oh.” The corner of Po’s mouth lifted into a smirk. “No, if you directed anything at me just then, I’m afraid I wasn’t available to hear it.”

“That’s another method we have, then.”

Po laughed aloud. “It’s better than being knocked out cold, I’ll grant. But I can’t do _that_ for very long. Or often.” He seemed apologetic about this.

Katsa hummed. It _was_ a way where she wouldn’t need to ride away from him for more than ten minutes before her mind was her own, though.

“I’ll give you that. All right, Katsa. If you ever need me out of your thoughts for a few seconds, we can... but I’d rather you do this only because you truly want to, with me.”

For a moment Po just looked at her, very serious, then Katsa let amusement trickle through to him.

“…You were _joking_. You fiend! I didn’t even know you could hide that from me.”

Po laughed, clearly delighted, and Katsa smirked as she leaned forward to kiss him. They would have many things to learn from and about each other yet. For now, she was determined to enjoy this brief respite of relative luxury, before the next challenge that awaited them.

**Author's Note:**

> Written during my third read-through of _Graceling_. Title is from the dodie song "Hate Myself." Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!


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